


base, structure, roof

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: base / structure /roof [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Aunt May gives the best hugs, F/M, Gwen's dad is alive, M/M, OT3, Polyamory, they're all huge dorks and they care about each other SO MUCH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1399267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, MJ discovering Peter Parker is Spiderman isn’t actually the most notable thing that happens to him during senior year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	base, structure, roof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keptein](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/gifts), [aglassfullofhappiness (Cedes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cedes/gifts).



> Basically, Andrew Garfield said that MJ could be [ Michael B Jordan](http://keptein.tumblr.com/post/80959460089/why-cant-we-discover-that-peter-is-exploring-his/), and it all spiralled from there.
> 
> This fic would never have existed without [ cedes ](http://aglassfullofhappiness.tumblr.com/) and [kep](http://keptein.tumblr.com/), seriously. Go spread the love, guys, they were beyond incredible.

As it turns out, MJ discovering Peter Parker is Spiderman isn’t actually the most notable thing that happens to him during senior year.

Don’t get him wrong- it’s a kicker. It’s terrifying, it’s exhilarating and sometimes MJ bursts into giggles during class when Peter gets up to put something in the rubbish or raises his hand to ask a question or even scratches his ear, because he’s SPIDERMAN and he’s sitting right there in MJ’s classroom falling asleep as Mr. Jetson drones on about something that happened eight hundred years before any of them were born.

 

It still hits him, when he’s scribbling notes for debate team or rehearsing his lines for drama class- the kid he’s grown up next to his whole life, the kid he nods to when they leave their houses for school in the morning- is the web-slinging masked vigilante who has a fanclub that MJ coined three months before he caught Spiderman climbing in a window of the Parker house at eleven o’clock at night.

 

MJ was supposed to be asleep That Night (in his mind it’s accompanied by capital letters and maybe a steady stream of ‘!!!!!’s), but skits don’t write themselves and his group had been experiencing a lack of motivation in the form of half of them going around the back of the school to smoke weed, so MJ was left carrying the brunt of the workload. Not that MJ minded, after half an hour of jotting notes- by the time it hit eleven, his pen was flying as he got into the head of several different characters at once.

 

He was just reaching the stunning conclusion that he’s sure is going to get him and his feet-dragging group an A, even if he might have put himself in the lead part and given himself a lot of the good lines. He was entitled to it, he supposed, being the guy who actually busted his ass writing the damn thing.

 

Since his window was overlooking the side of the Parker house, he often found himself staring at it in moments of boredom. This time, however, MJ found himself glancing up to check the time, and then out of the corner of his eye he saw something moving, which wouldn’t be so surprising if it weren’t nearly midnight and the thing wasn’t crawling up the side of the Parker house.

 

It took a second or two to identify it as a person, and then another panicked moment of _I should call the cops, shit,_ before his eyes adjusted and MJ watched Spiderman pry a window open and duck inside.

 

MJ was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open at this point. Slowly, after a while of his brain turning over the same possibility in his head, his jaw clicked shut and he dropped his drama notes. He reached for his phone, scrolling down his contacts to ‘P’ and hoping like hell that Peter had the same number he did when they were fourteen and exchanging numbers one day after MJ’s dog ran away.

 

It rang six times before Peter’s voice came on the line, obviously out of breath. “MJ, hey,” he panted into the phone, and MJ stared at the dark window that now had the curtains drawn. That, he was sure, was Peter Parker’s bedroom that Spiderman crawled into.

 

“What’s up,” Peter continued, wheezing. MJ supposed he was too hyped up on adrenaline to ask why the hell he was getting a call from him this late.

 

“Hi,” MJ said, the slowest ‘hi’ he had ever said in his entire life, drawn-out and confused and still trying to process the events that had unfolded. “Just wondering, are you in your room right now?”

 

A pause, then a panted, “Yeah.”

 

“Then you totally noticed Spiderman sneak in the window just now.”

 

“Spi- spider- what, no, haaaa,” Peter said, his voice on the wrong side of a croak. “Why, what, what made you say that?

 

“Because I totally just saw Spiderman climb into your bedroom window, man.”

 

 “Did I ever tell you I’m awesome at cosplaying,” Peter said eventually, trying to sound casual and failing really, really badly, his voice cracking at the end of it.

 

That Night (!!!!!!) had ended with MJ and Peter meeting at the fence that divides their two houses and having a whisper-screaming match where Peter tried desperately to get MJ to shut up and MJ whisper-ranted and jumped around a bit and demanded to see Peter’s costume, and eventually Peter let him inside and MJ tried not to squeal like a tiny girl upon seeing the Spiderman suit in all its glory, crumpled up on Peter’s bed.

 

Still whispering, urging MJ to please, please shut up for the sake of Aunt May, Peter had explained about the spider bite, and Uncle Ben, and _the huge freaking lizard_ which had actually been Gwen’s boss, holy _shit_.

 

“- so now I sneak out and patrol most nights, I got in kind of early this time, which is why you saw me and oh my god you cannot tell anyone please say you won’t tell _anyone_ ,” Peter had finished, waving his hands like he had been waving them through the whole thing.

 

“Pinkie promise,” MJ vowed, marking an ‘x’ over his chest with his pinkie finger before holding it out towards Peter.

 

Peter sighed, but took it. “Thanks, MJ.”

 

“No problem, dude,” MJ replied. Then: “I hope you know what this means, though, since I can’t hoard over Flash the fact that I know Spiderman’s super-secret identity.”

 

“Don’t say super-secret identity, it sounds like a bad b-movie when you- wait, why would Flash care?”

 

MJ made a face at him, still tingly with nerves. “He’s the other co-founder of our school’s Spiderman Fanclub.”

 

Something happened with Peter’s expression, like he was contemplating his life but also trying not to laugh.

 

 

-

 

 

So, yeah. This is MJ’s life now. Pretty much the same as his life was before - doing work for his clubs, doing most of his assignments, working out after school, vegging out in front of the TV when he has the time - but now he has this secret that makes him grin goofily whenever he thinks about it.

 

The first time he and Flash host the Spiderman Fanclub after he finds out, MJ drags Gwen along.

He likes Gwen, he’s liked Gwen ever since she rocked up in her long sleeves and her sensible ponytail and mischievous eyes in ninth grade and asked to be his study buddy for the upcoming Chem test. This had spawned a study-buddy friendship from the stars, turning into years of quizzing each other in study hall, brief conversations when they pass each other in daily life, and the occasional study session at each other’s house.

 

Gwen knows, of course, Peter told MJ That Night. And Gwen knows MJ knows, since Peter texted her about it halfway through telling MJ, so MJ is more than happy to drop into step beside Gwen as she walks through the hall and beam his best smile at her.

 

She sees through it, of course she does. MJ has faith in that woman, believes wholeheartedly that she can and one day will take over the world and look great doing it. Her smile is suppressed, but he thinks he can tease it out of her.

 

“Come on,” he goads, tilting his head. He even flutters his eyelashes for effect. When she doesn’t react, he flutters harder. “Seriously? Nothing?”

 

Her cheek tucks in a way that means she’s biting on it to keep herself from laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says blandly, looking away from him, the laughter obvious in her voice.

 

He butts their shoulders together. “Come oooon. Don’t tell me you didn’t want to scream it off the rooftops after you found out.”

 

“After I found out, my mouth was busy, so there wasn’t any rooftop-shouting, no.”

 

MJ grins at that. “Right, you and him are boyfriend-girlfriend now, cool.” He bends closer.

 

“Does he take you for swings around the city,” he says lowly, and she breaks, finally laughing, and shoves him.

 

“For your information, yes.” She holds her head high. “It’s very romantic.”

 

“I’ve heard getting bugs in your teeth when you slam into them at high speed as you’re sailing through the air is the height of romance today,” MJ nods sagely, and is gratified as he always is when Gwen makes this tiny snorting sound that means she finds him hilarious but has too much pride to show it.

 

They turn a corner, and Gwen shrugs. “Fine, it’s exciting. But it is romantic when we reach whatever high spot we’re aiming for.” Her face gets this moony look, the look MJ has seen on the faces of too many of his friends and even himself, once or twice. “He brings candles in his bag to set up near us when we eat.”

 

Okay, MJ’s got to give it to the guy, he’s got moves. Not that MJ thinks he doesn’t - or, well, that’s a lie, until last year he’s known Peter as the guy who trips over his own feet and most likely takes a table out with him as he falls down, the guy who stammers and blushes and is the cute kind of awkward that no-one but MJ and apparently Gwen seems to find cute.

 

“Where are we going,” Gwen say suddenly, having been distracted by the conversation long enough for MJ to steer her.

 

He puts a finger to his lips, tosses out a, “all good things come to those who wait, Gwen Stacy,” and dodges her when she tries to shove him again, then he’s pushing open the door to all eighteen members of the Spiderman Fabclub, including one of their co-founders, Flash ‘Eugene’ Thompson.

 

Flash looks pissed, which isn’t exactly a surprise, and is currently barking something at some poor freshman who looks like he’s about to faint into a fifteen year old puddle on the floor and beg Flash for forgiveness.

 

MJ reins him in with a hand on Flash’s shoulder. “Flash, what did I say last time?”

 

Flash looks at him crossly before muttering, “Don’t be mean to the other club members.”

 

MJ cups a hand to his ear. “Sorry, what was that?”

 

“Don’t be mean to the other club members,” Flash says, clearer this time. He’s getting better, that Flash Thompson. He still has his dick moments, but he’s definitely improved. Even been seen ‘slumming it’ with Peter recently, walking around in the halls and talking like they don’t want to rip each other’s throats out. God, MJ is going to die laughing every time he sees those two together - he imagines Flash saying something about the club and Peter nodding innocently along.

 

Flash notices Gwen just then, and nods in her direction. “Hey.”

 

“Hi, Flash,” Gwen says, with a pleasant smile that has become more pleasant now that he’s stopped beating Peter up, along with most of the student population that used to fall victim to his fists. “Finished your report yet?”

 

“Uh,” Flash says in a high voice, scratching the back of his neck, and MJ knows that the next words out of his mouth are going to be pure bullshit. “Yeah, absolutely, I’m working on the last paragraph.”

 

“Oh, well in that case I’ll check it over first thing after this,” Gwen says sweetly.

 

Like he said. That Gwen Stacy is going to rule the world one day.

 

 

-

 

 

MJ does his chores, finishes his assignment for English, which is a nightmare he’s glad to rid himself of- he loves the reading, loves the writing, hates having to format essays, seriously, fuck topic sentences and explanations and examples and relevance and then the whole thing over again, who needs it, why can’t he just write what he thinks of Othello without worrying about structure- and jots something down for Drama before deciding, _fuck it_.

 

He jumps over the fence dividing their house and the Parker’s, which he’s never had to do much, and knocks on the door before stepping back and waiting, rocking on his heels.

It’s Aunt May that answers- she looks older every time MJ sees her, which never fails to make him think about his own Aunt Annie’s mortality, and then how inevitable death is, and this is why Aunt May probably thinks he has emotional issues because every time MJ sees her he hugs the crap out of her. As usual, she hugs back like a woman who has received her fair share of hugs, all warm and tight but not too tight, rubbing his back until MJ squeezes once and releases her.

 

“Always a pleasure, MJ,” she says, and shit, MJ has to actually look down to make eye contact. When the hell did that happen? How long since puberty had he last hugged her?

“You, too,” he replies, trying not to let too much of his sudden inner crisis leak out onto his face. “Is Peter around?”

 

“He’s upstairs,” Aunt May says, smiling warmly, like she doesn’t get this question often. Maybe she doesn’t, Peter doesn’t seem to have a bunch of friends, not any who come over to his house, anyway. MJ feels a little guilty about that- he’s always liked Peter, always found him funny and kind of sweet, more than enough material to have a couple of friends. Hell, MJ would have found it no problem to come around more, it’s just he’s been so busy over the past few years, so his lonely neighbour he used to play kickball with sort of faded into the background, drowned out by school plays and tests MJ had to study for.

Looking down at the sad, hopeful smile on Aunt May’s face, MJ decides it then and there. From now on, he’s going to be Peter Parker’s friend, and he’s going to be great at it if it kills him.

 

Peter jumps when MJ comes into his room- he briefly considered barging in, but decided against it when he remembered that Peter now had spider-like reflexes and could whip a lamp at MJ’s head without too much trouble.

 

“Yo,” MJ says sunnily, and flops down next to Peter on his bed, where Peter had been doodling absently. “Whatcha got there?”

 

“Uh,” Peter says, and tilts the paper over so MJ can see several re-designs of the Spiderman suit, all loose and sketchy, only half-filled in.

 

MJ studies them for a second, his mind filling in the colours, the hard blues and the vivid reds. “Yeah, I could do that.”

 

Peter is doing a lot of blinking. “Uh,” he says again. “What?”

 

MJ points at the first design. “That one’s cool. I could definitely do that, it looks simple enough.”

 

“What,” Peter repeats, and MJ sighs dramatically, like he does most things in life.

 

“I am offering to do up your suit for you,” he says, making eye contact and saying it like he might say it to a kid. “If that’s cool with you. Is it cool with you?”

 

“It’s cool with me,” Peter says, but he’s frowning like he doesn’t quite agree with himself. His fingers- long fingers, MJ’s never noticed how long his fingers were- start tapping on the paper in a tuneless beat.

 

“I could not,” MJ backtracks, leaning away from him a bit, because god knows everyone has told him at some point that he comes on too strong sometimes, “Just. If you wanted.”

 

Peter shakes his head, says, “No, it’s cool,” sounding more sure of it this time. He peeks out at MJ from under his hair. Boy needs a haircut something fierce. “You can really do this?”

 

MJ takes the paper from him and looks it over, shrugging. “Yeah, like I said, it’s simple enough. I dabble in design,” he explains when Peter continues to blink at him.

 

“On top of modelling?”

 

MJ grins. “Yeah, on top of modelling. How’d you-?”

 

“You’re kind of… popular, if you haven’t noticed,” Peter points out, not sounding bitter, just like it’s a fact of life. “I mean, I’m not exactly in the loop, but I’ve heard about some stuff you did. The acne cream ad, mostly.”

 

“Ah, the acne cream ad.” MJ sighs fondly. “The christening of my career. Aunt Annie hung it up in the kitchen and refused to take it down until my Junior year.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“I know,” MJ says, and is about to ask Peter when he wants MJ to get started on his suit when Gwen comes in. She smiles warmly at MJ, turning into a gush when it reaches Peter.

 

“Oh, right,” Peter says distractedly, getting up and starting to go through one of his drawers. “Four thirty, I totally remembered.”

 

“Sure,” Gwen says with a fond eyeroll. “I believe you. Hey, MJ.”

 

MJ gives her a wave, and Peter says from the depths of his drawer, “He graciously offered up his services on my suit.”

 

Gwen says, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of MJ doing anything graciously,” and MJ makes a sound like he’s been mortally wounded, and Gwen makes that soft snort again that makes MJ glow with pride.

 

Sensing it’s time to make an exit, MJ gets up to leave, telling Peter he’ll text him later about the designs, but Gwen stops him with a hand on his elbow. “You can stay,” she tells him, glancing over at Peter. “Peter, he can stay, right? I am his official study buddy of four years, I know how behind he is in Chem.”

 

MJ cocks his head at her. “You’re both taking AP Chem,” he points out.

 

“So we can help you through yours,” Gwen says in the same tone he used.

 

Finally emerging from his drawer with what looks like notes that MJ can’t decipher if he squints, Peter nods jerkily, and MJ sees that small kid that he moved in next to ten years ago, all stringy limbs. “Sure, why not?”

 

They make it through forty-five minutes of Chem work, which is a tremendous feat for MJ, before Peter announces loudly that he hasn’t played video games in forever, which gets Gwen exclaiming loudly that she, too, hasn’t played in forever, and MJ gratefully lets them let him off the hook and they make zombies’ heads explode in HD until it starts getting dark.

 

 

-

 

 

Aunt May ends up seeing a lot of MJ after that, which leads to MJ thinking a lot about his Aunt Annie and her new grey hairs and the INEVITABILITY OF DEATH, and Aunt May returns every hug she gets with just as much enthusiasm, even that one time when MJ is overwhelmed by love for all Aunts everywhere and hugs her from the back while she’s making apple pie.

 

Peter used to stick by himself in school, but nowadays he’s flanked by Gwen and sometimes Flash and sometimes MJ, and often a combination of those. MJ likes it the most when Flash is present, because then he can talk Spiderman to him and Flash can reply enthusiastically and Peter can elbow MJ in the ribs as a silent plea to get him to shut up. Once, when MJ starts mass-producing Spiderman badges and disperses them all over campus, Peter almost bruises him, he nudges so hard. He apologizes after MJ winces against his will, profusely and repeatedly until MJ takes Peter by the shoulders and shakes him gently and pins a Spiderman pin on his shirt while he’s distracted.

 

Peter looks down at it and frowns in that adorable way that makes MJ think of puppies, and MJ chucks him on the chin. “Looks good on you,” he assures him. “As Flash says, the chicks dig ‘im.”

 

He thinks Peter mutters something, but the bell rings and drowns him out.

 

 

-

 

 

Gwen likes MJ. She really does. She’s liked him ever since that first study period when he brought her gummy worms even though everyone knew she lived on the good side of town and could afford a billion gummy worms if she wanted to buy them.

 

Sure, MJ can be over the top and doesn’t take things seriously enough sometimes, but he’s warm and kind and one of the most enthusiastic people she knows, and he has this thing where he can pop up out of nowhere and suddenly become BFFs with everyone. She’s seen it with the school nurses, all their teachers, Aunt May, her own parents, and the grouchy cat that sits in a tree outside school and only comes down to wind his tail around MJ’s legs and hiss at passerbys who dare to come near her human.

 

So yes, she likes MJ. One of the things she likes most about MJ is that even though he can be clingy, he usually gets the hint when Peter and Gwen want to be alone. For alone time. By themselves.

 

Which is why she’s surprised when he bursts in the door while Peter and Gwen are obviously Not Studying, are obviously doing something way different than Studying, are doing something other than Studying where Peter may or may not have a hand up her shirt.

 

The hand slips out from under her shirt fast as anything, and Gwen resists pouting. She has never been the pouting kind of girl. She turns, observing Peter’s red face with a fond twist in her stomach, and says, “MJ, we’re kind of, um-”

 

“I got scouted,” MJ pants, like he’s run all the way here from his house, which isn’t that far and isn’t enough for him to be panting. Still, his chest heaves like he’s run a marathon. His eyes are wide and almost scared, which is something Gwen has never seen before on his face. “Guys, I got SCOUTED,” he repeats, loud enough that Aunt May can probably hear it downstairs.

Downstairs, where Aunt May has sensibly set up shop, because she knows Not Studying noises when she hears them and is smart enough not to barge in when Not Studying is going on.

 

“That’s great, MJ,” Peter croaks, face still burning, his hand flexing like he misses the feel of boob underneath it. Gwen knows she does. “What, uh, what-”

 

“You gotta help me with the test shots, Pete,” MJ says, coming right up and sitting down in between them. They make room, of course, but still. Gwen sorely misses the hand that up until recently was playing with her bra strap.

 

“I can’t afford a professional,” MJ continues. “Come on, Peter, please? Old buddy, old pal? I’ll do your homework-”

 

“I finished your classes a year ago-”

 

“I’ll shine your shoes-”

 

“Why would I need someone to shine my shoes, I have sneakers-”

 

“I’ll blow off my next drama club meeting to work on the Spidey suit, man, I’m begging here-”

 

“You don’t have to blow off your drama club meeting, I”ll do it,” Peter says, holding up his hands. One of those hands was on Gwen’s boob. Sigh.

 

MJ’s face lights up. “Really?”

 

Peter shrugs. “Yeah, what are friends for,” he says in a kind tone that doesn’t deserve to be used when the person you’re talking to has just interrupted a conversation between a hand and a boob. Seriously, Gwen’s pissed. She’s definitely going to bring this up in their next study session.

 

Gwen thinks that’s it, but then MJ is leaning in and hugging Peter, who squeaks and tilts his pelvic region away. MJ frowns, drawing back and slapping him once on the back. “You good?”

 

“Good, good,” Peter babbles. “All good.”

 

“Anyway, we were kind of busy,” Gwen says with a tight smile. “We’ll see you at school, MJ.”

 

“See you,” MJ says, getting up and flashing them a grin. “Owe you a bunch, Pete.”

 

“Cool,” Peter says, sounding strangled. Gwen waits for the door to close behind MJ before making eye contact with Peter again.

 

“So,” she tries.

 

He’s nodding. Dork. “So.”

 

They’re not going to get anywhere by talking, Gwen decides, and slings a leg over his waist, chuckling into Peter’s mouth when he makes that squeaking sound again.

 

 

-

 

 

Objectively, Gwen supposes MJ is hot.

 

Okay, she knows full well he’s hot. He’s the kind of hot that usually happens on billboard or porn. He’s handsome, for starters, with the charming smile and the charisma and the beautiful dark skin. Then there’s the whole muscles deal, with the arms that bulge without being too bulgy, the six-pack that isn’t too six-packy that it gets creepy, the nice jawline, etc.

 

The stubble, of course, and the happy trail that Gwen keeps seeing when he goes to stretch, because the boy refuses to wear shirts that fit. And on top of all that, he dresses nicely. Gwen has no questions in her mind as to why MJ is constantly being flirted with.

 

Bottom line is, MJ gets stared at a lot. And maybe Gwen stares at him sometimes, but most of the time she catches herself before it gets weird.

 

And maybe once or twice, she’s caught Peter looking at MJ like so many others look at him. Peter’s gaze sticks and stays on the trail of hair down his navel as he leans back, the stretch of his neck when he cranes it, but then it tears away, and always goes straight to Gwen.

 

Whenever Gwen catches him doing it, he frowns to himself afterwards, looking off into space.

 

 

 

-

 

 

Aunt May raises her eyebrows at the sight of a shirtless teenager that isn’t her nephew parading around the kitchen, but only says, “Don’t knock anything over,” and goes to watch TV in the other room.

“We won’t,” yell Peter, Gwen and MJ in unison.

 

Peter goes back to fiddling with his camera, adjusting the lens and clicking something on and off, and Gwen pulls a chair out and sits down to watch MJ wipe his sweaty hands on his jeans.

 

“I didn’t think you could even get nervous,” Gwen tries for light. She fails, mostly, because MJ’s laugh is flimsy as hell.

 

“Yeah, no, it’s just. My possible future career,” MJ says, and swallows. He picks up an orange out of the fruit bowl and starts picking at the skin, not peeling it, just digging a fingernail in and wiggling.

 

Peter bats at it, takes it out of MJ’s hand and after a second of consideration, hands it to Gwen, who starts peeling it. “You’ll be fine,” Peter assures MJ, and readies his camera. “Is there anything special you want to do, or-”

 

“Let’s try this first.”

 

Peter nods, and holds the camera up, and MJ turns into a model right in front of their eyes. It’s stunning to watch, really- his nervous expression smooths out, he drops his hunched shoulders as his pose takes on an easy grace.

 

Peter even pauses, watching the transformation through the lens, before snapping the first shot.

 

Gwen ends up sharing out bits of the orange between the two boys and herself when they take a snack break after moving around the house for more photos, and Gwen spends a good eighty percent of the night trying not to stare blatantly at MJ. She’d feel bad about it if Peter wasn’t obviously doing the same thing.

 

Later, when MJ’s gone home and Peter is transferring the photos onto his computer and Gwen is crosslegged next to him on the bed, Gwen hooks her chin over his shoulder. Peter twists his head to press a kiss into her hair, sparing her a smile before going back to the screen. On it, MJ lifts his hands over his head, or splays out on a counter, or plays with the hem of his shirt.

 

Gwen watches Peter’s fingers tap across the keyboard. She should be studying, they both should, and Gwen needs to go home soon which means they’re probably going to end up staying up late and studying at their separate houses. It’s disappointing, since Gwen likes studying with Peter- she gets to lean into him while they’re writing, gets to loop their ankles together, gets to pause and kiss him, and she can’t do that at home where she’s Peter-less.

 

Still, she watches the screen, watches Peter watch the screen, watches MJ flex and smile and break character long enough to take a bit of orange in that one photo, and tugs on Peter’s shirt. Peter says, “Yeah?”

 

“Do you think MJ’s hot?”

 

That gets him turning to her all the way, computer forgotten in his lap. “I- what, no, what,” he splutters, and Gwen fixes him with a look.

 

“Peter,” she sighs. “Don’t lower yourself. Do not be that boy who can’t admit it when he thinks another boy is hot. You were raised better than that.”

 

Peter rubs a hand across his mouth, something Gwen has always found distracting. It draws her eyes this time without fail, and Peter shrugs and says into his hand, “MJ, yeah, I guess. He’s kinda. Hot. Ish.”

 

“He’s smoking,” Gwen corrects him, and when she gets hit with a mock-offended look, she rolls her eyes. “Come on, Pete. He is. We’ve both been staring at that one photo for way longer than we needed to.”

“It’s a good photo!”

 

“With MJ on a table with his shirt riding up.”

 

“That’s what makes it a good photo,” Peter says after a hesitation Gwen nearly misses. “Y’know, apart from my amazing photo-taking skills.”

“You know what really made me fall for you? Your modesty.”

 

 

-

 

 

“Quit it,” Gwen says after it’s been fifteen minutes into the episode and MJ hasn’t stopped jiggling his leg once. She puts a hand on his knee and the leg stops and then sags. “He’s fine,” she says, softer this time, her hand rubbing his knee now. “He’s always fine.”

 

MJ hums, glancing towards the window like he has been ever since Peter crawled out of it with a slightly-singed Spidey suit and a cocky salute to the both of them and a warning not to get froyo on his bed.

 

So far, they’ve managed to drip it on the carpet, but not his bed, so they count it as a win.

 

“And if he’s not,” MJ asks, looking over at her earnestly, because MJ makes a point to look people in the eyes.

 

“Then we patch him up,” Gwen tells him. “Like we always do.”

 

MJ frowns but nods, and that’s when Gwen realizes that her hand is still on his knee. The warmth radiating out from MJ’s sweatpants is comforting, and her hand feels unnecessarily cold when Gwen draws it back to her side.

 

They make it through another two episodes of Brooklyn Nine Nine before the window slides open and Spiderman steps through, closing the door and the curtains behind him before taking his mask off, and by that time MJ and Gwen are already on their feet.

 

“You’re bleeding,” Gwen says, trying to keep her voice flat. It doesn’t work as well as she’d hoped. Her hands hover over his nose, which is dripping blood. “Why are you always bleeding?”

 

“Sowwy,” Peter says, voice muffled by his bloody nose and cupped hands over it, still managing to drip sarcasm as he’s gushing blood from his face. “I’ll twy not do.”

 

Gwen feels something being pressed into her hand, and she thanks MJ with a quick glance before wadding up the tissue paper and pushing it against his nostrils. Peter winces, and Gwen gives him a once-over. “Anything else to bandage? Bleeding from any other orifices?”

 

“None dat I can fink of,” Peter replies, but he’s holding his leg strangely. Gwen gets him to sit down on his bed before starting to peel off the suit, getting down to his knee before she sees the damage: a dark, mottled bruise over his left kneecap. It looks uncomfortably swollen.

 

“Bight have got a tiwe iwon to that leg,” Peter admits, and then hisses when MJ applies light pressure.

 

“I’ll go get ice,” MJ says, and leaves Gwen to deal with her bloody boyfriend in his boxers. Peter and Gwen pull his feet from the suit before lying it down next to him.

 

Gwen goes to the sink, wets some paper towels and comes back to dab at his nose. “Who the hell would hit Spiderman with a tire iron?”

 

“A bery old, bery bissed off old laby,” Peter replies, and Gwen can’t hold back the snort. “No, pwease, laugh,” Peter says. “It was distuwbing as hell, her dog neawly- Ow.”

 

“Sorry,” Gwen says, and tries to be more gentle. MJ comes back in with a tea-towel full of ice, and kneels to press it to Peter’s bad knee.

 

“Who hit you with a tire iron,” he asks, and Peter whisper-hisses, “OLD LABY,” and Gwen bites her lip to stop herself laughing again. She and MJ exchange a look- MJ has been through this song and dance almost as much as Gwen has now ever since he came over several months ago and announced that if he’s going to be watching Peter climb in through the window, he might as well watching him do it from Peter’s house rather than from his own.

 

It’s been nice, having an extra hand to mop away the blood from wherever Peter’s been hit that night.

 

 

-

 

 

They don’t realize it might look weird until they see Flash squinting at them from a falafel stand and wave him over.

 

“Hey, guys,” Flash says when he approaches, hands in his pockets. He nods towards the food they’re halfway through eating. “What, is MJ crashing your date night now?”

 

The three of them glance down at their plates, then up at each other- MJ is slung casually between Gwen and Peter, Peter’s arm around his shoulder and Gwen’s drawn-up knee on his leg. Occasionally Peter leans in front of MJ to kiss Gwen, or Gwen will trail a hand through Peter’s hair, or one of them will eat something off one of the others’ plates, and up until then they hadn’t thought it could look odd to someone walking past.

 

Flash snorts knowingly in MJ’s direction, who has a fast-fading grin. “Dude, doesn’t it kind of suck, being the third wheel all the time? I mean, I can only take an hour or so of hanging out with them until I have to go and ralph from all the couple-ness.”

 

Peter tries to be casual about taking his arm off of MJ’s shoulders.

 

MJ shrugs. “I’m cool with it, Flash. They’re a pretty great couple, it’s good to see two people care about each other so much.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Flash laughs, and runs a hand through his newly-buzzed hair. “Have you two heard? MJ ships you two so bad, guys. It’s all _Gwen and Peter_ this and _they’re such a great couple_ that. Hand to god, some people at school think he’s dating you.”

 

Flash continues to laugh, and the others try to muster up something to join him, but it falls flat. Gwen curls her knee up, away from MJ’s leg.

 

Someone yells Flash’s name, and Flash looks over his shoulder to flip them off. “Coming,” he yells, before turning back. “I’ll see you losers at school.”

 

“Bye,” they all mumble, not realizing it’s in unison until Flash is lost in the crowd.

 

It’s Gwen who speaks first. “MJ, we never considered we were making you uncomfortable-”

 

“We’re really sorry, man,” Peter butts in, but MJ waves them both down.

 

“Hey, it’s fine.” He tries for the grin he was wearing before, when they were all eating gelato and giggling about their memories of the pool party they all got invited to in ninth grade. “Like Flash said, I’m your biggest shipper. Number one fan, over here. And I, I like hanging with you guys.”

 

Peter and Gwen exchange a look, and Gwen says, “We like hanging with you, too, MJ.”

 

MJ nods, but he looks unsure. “So, you guys will tell me if I’m, like, totally interrupting you guys when you want to be alone, right?”

 

“We promise.”

 

“I honestly didn’t realize it was date night, I wouldn’t have made plans with you guys otherwise.” MJ winces at the both of them. “Do you want me to go so you guys can do date things? It’s fine, seriously, we can do stuff some other time, I needed to be home soon anyway.’

“No, no,” Peter says, maybe a bit too fast. “We’re good right now. Gwen?”

 

“So good,” Gwen nods.

 

It takes until the sun starts setting over the all-too-familiar skyline, but eventually Peter’s arm and Gwen’s knee end up in the places they were before Flash started talking.

 

 

-

 

 

Things are a bit more- strained, after that. They’re more aware of themselves when MJ pushes Peter’s hair back while he’s talking, or takes Gwen’s hand to lead her somewhere. They notice more when they automatically sit down in a line, Peter-MJ-Gwen, at a movie theatre or the cafeteria. Gwen finds she has to stop herself sometimes from linking her ankle with MJ’s when one of them is already linked with Peter’s.

 

Once, when Gwen and Peter are making out, Peter’s hands splayed on her bare back, hers in his hair, tugging periodically, Gwen starts sucking a mark into Peter’s neck and Peter’s hands squeeze her shoulders as he gasps, “MJ-”

 

He freezes immediately after, which Gwen thinks is a perfectly sensible response after saying someone else’s name while kissing your girlfriend.

 

Oddly, it doesn’t strike her to be angry. Instead something sad starts churning her stomach hotly, along with some other kind of heat entirely.

 

 

-

 

 

It’s not exactly a secret that Peter isn’t popular. Peter has never been popular, will never be popular, never really wanted to be popular. All he wanted was not to get his face shoved in the mud every day, which is what he’s got now, which is nice.

 

He’s still not popular, but ever since he’s started hanging out with Gwen and MJ and occasionally Flash, he’s been getting more solid and less fade-into-the-background, melt-into-the-wallpaper in the eyes of his peers.

 

He’s not even mentioning the Spiderman thing. For fuck’s sake, Flash shaved the Spidey symbol into the back of his head, and Peter had to excuse himself to have a gigglefit in the boy’s bathroom after Flash showed him.

 

So, Peter’s not popular, but somehow he’s gotten himself invited to one of the biggest parties of the year along with Gwen, and neither of them have any idea how to handle this. Gwen has never been the partying type of person- popular, yes, she’s popular enough, but her dad is the police captain and no-one wants to invite someone who could potentially bust them for smoking weed in a stranger’s bedroom.

 

It’s both Gwen and Peter’s first High School Party, and about MJ’s twentieth, and MJ laughs himself stupid when he sees what they’re planning on wearing.

 

“Tassels,” he chokes eventually. “Tassels, why, Peter, why _tassels_?”

 

“We watched a lot of bad eighties movies last night,” Gwen sighs. “Maybe I got nervous. I’ll go change, I regret everything.”

 

“Yes,” MJ says, stabbing a finger at her. “Petey, I love you, but burn those tassels. Burn. Them, and go put on your skinniest skinny jeans.”

 

Peter squirms. “They’re hard to wear with the Spidey suit.”

 

MJ throws up his hands. “Then don’t wear the Spidey suit!”

 

“But what if-”

 

“One night,” MJ begs. “One night of going to a stupid, normal high school party that is probably going to get broken up by Gwen’s dad before midnight. Come on.”

 

“Wear the ones you have buried in the depths of your closet,” Gwen yells from the next room over. “They make your ass look fab.”

 

“Fab,” MJ nods wisely.

 

“I regret everything,” Peter says, but goes to search through his closet for his skinniest skinny jeans.

 

 

-

 

 

There are less red cups at the party that Peter was lead to believe by movies, which he’s disappointed about. In his mind, if he ever went partying, there would be red cups involved. Instead he holds a kitten-print mug owned by someone he doesn’t know and sips beer out of it, which is useless because he can’t get drunk anyway so he’s just left with a bad taste in his mouth and a depressingly clear head.

 

He’d really love to be drunk right now. Being drunk would make it easier to go- do something that isn’t standing awkwardly in the corner with Gwen, who is on her fourth beer and is getting gigglier by the second. _She_ got handed a red cup, which Peter tries not to side-eye.

 

“Oooh,” Gwen says, punching Peter in the arm several times in rapid succession. “I love this song, we should do that.”

 

Peter looks reluctantly up at the stage where a pair of white boys are slurring rap lyrics into a microphone and attempting gang signs. He makes a face. “Gwen, do you think that’s a good idea?”

 

She giggles. “Yes,” she says, with the confidence and conviction of a first-time-drunk. She starts hitting his arm again, and Peter catches it softly and says, “Uh, I’d really rather not. Sorry.”

 

Gwen wines in the back of her throat, her hand latched around his sleeve. Her eyes are bright and glossed over, her cheeks flushed. It’s a good look for her, but it’s also a dangerous one, since she’s beginning to wobble in her high heels. Peter steadies her, putting an arm over her shoulder that she leans heavily into.

 

They stay for another half an hour after that, and Peter cuts Gwen off after she finishes the cup she’s on, and then she takes off her shoes and starts dancing. He watches, bemused, her shoes in his hands, until she pulls him along with her and does some weird version of the twist which involves a lot of bouncing. She bounces, and Peter quietly takes a guy’s phone and breaks it without him noticing when he tries to film her, and Gwen giggles and bounces and kisses Peter until they hear MJ say, “Told you you’d have a good time,” and they separate.

 

“Em-Jayyyyyyy,” Gwen says instantly, grinning bright enough to blind passerbys. She bounces some more, grabbing MJ’s hands and yanking him closer. She yells in his ear. “MJ, MJ, MJ!”

 

“I take it she’s a happy drunk,” MJ laughs, looking pretty out of it himself, and Peter nods helplessly.

 

MJ laughs down at Gwen’s feet. “Groovy socks,” he says, and Gwen shrieks delightedly.

 

Peter decides it’s probably time to make an exit. He slaps MJ on the shoulder, squeezes a little. “Thanks for inviting us, man, but we should go. Get Gwen to drink some water, and stuff.”

 

“Cool,” MJ says breezily. “Let’s go.”

 

Peter maybe looks too surprised. “You aren’t staying? With, with-” he waves a hand at the people around them. “Your other people? Your peepz?” Peter wishes he could blame that on the booze, but they both know he can’t get drunk. For shame.

 

“Nah, I got my faves right here,” MJ drawls, and Peter wishes, again, for the bliss of being drunk as hell, because maybe if he was he wouldn’t notice the flutter in his stomach as MJ positions himself in the middle of them and slings his arms over their shoulders.

 

It feels natural, walking to the car with Gwen giggling and resting her chin on MJ’s shoulder, MJ bursting into warbled song and getting the two of them to sing along as his shirt drags against Peter’s side.

 

They wave down a cab, and by the time they tumble into it even Peter’s laughing, his body shaking all the way down as they shuffle into the backseat. Somehow, Gwen ends up on MJ’s lap, giggling like a maniac into his neck, MJ trembling with tears in his eyes and Peter with his head dropped into MJ’s shoulder as they laugh themselves breathless.

 

“You guys are dru-uunk,” Peter manages finally after he’s got his breath back, feeling the cab as it bumps along the road. Gwen snorts at him, booping him on the nose and completing the motion by saying, “BOOP,” loudly and dissolving into giggles.

 

The giggles die down after a while, once the rocking of the cab has slowed to smooth road, and Peter realizes that even though they have a whole backseat to splay out on, they’re all huddled to the left side of the car.

 

Gwen’s fingers are playing with Peter’s ear, tugging and folding it down before letting it flop back up. She doesn’t seem too concerned with what she’s doing, her cheek mushed into MJ’s shoulder as they both watch Peter’s ear get contorted. Eventually the ear is left alone, and Gwen’s hand goes to Peter’s chin, her fingers pressing gently in a way that Peter doesn’t associate with drunkenness but always associates with Gwen. The fingers travel up Peter’s face, trace his forehead and then come to rest back on his cheek. Gwen has been watching her own fingers for most of this, but now she looks at Peter, who has been watching her eyes track the movements.

 

Still in MJ’s lap, Gwen leans over an inch or two to kiss Peter. She tastes like cheap beer, but the curve of her mouth is familiar and Peter responds under her lips, their tongues brushing. It feels strange, kissing her when Peter has his left side pressed up against MJ, but she’s in his lap, so he supposes it must feel stranger for her.

 

That’s what he’s feeling, Peter decides: strangeness. That’s the low, hot curl in his stomach when he hears MJ make a noise, a breathy, quiet, _huh-uh_ like he doesn’t know he’s making it.

 

Peter’s eyes slit open- MJ is watching them both with a half-lidded gaze, his lips parted. Peter has spent a long time staring at those lips in the photographs, where it’s safe to stare at your best friend’s lips.

 

Apparently Peter’s been slacking, forgetting to kiss back, because Gwen pulls away and leans their foreheads together. “‘S okay,” she says, and Peter doesn’t know what she means until she nudges him with her nose and continues, “You can kiss him, he wants you to.”

 

MJ makes that noise again, more startled this time, and Peter knows, he’s read the data, he can’t get drunk but goddamnit he feels wasted, he feels like the inside of the cab is twisting sideways.

 

“I want you to,” Gwen says, and all it takes is for Peter to tilt his head in MJ’s direction, glance at him to check it’s okay, and then MJ is closing the gap and they’re kissing. Peter is kissing his best friend, his drunk best friend in the back of a cab while his girlfriend is on said best friend’s lap and is watching them kiss.

 

It probably shouldn’t make Peter moan the way it does.

 

It’s different from kissing Gwen- Gwen’s lips are smaller, and she kisses soft to start out as a rule. MJ kisses Peter like he wants to eat him up like that wolf in the poem they’re studying in English, sloppy in the best way and teasing Peter’s bottom lip with his teeth.

 

Peter’s breath hitches when he feels a mouth on his neck, but then it’s gone and MJ stutters Gwen’s name into Peter’s mouth. Peter opens his eyes to see Gwen sucking a hickey into MJ’s neck, slow and sure, like they have all the time in the world.

 

Then Gwen is nudging them apart, kissing up their jaws and murmuring that she wants a turn, and Peter watches with bee-stung lips as she kisses MJ with a wet sound. Peter can see a flash of their tongues when Gwen tilts her head, giving Peter a better view.

 

He watches, mesmerised, and wonders distantly if he’s supposed to do something. As soon as the thought hits, he cups a hand over Gwen’s breast, squeezing gently and eliciting a groan that MJ swallows.

 

“Shit,” MJ breathes, shaky, past Gwen’s lips, and she murmurs agreement as she guides MJ’s hand to slip through Peter’s hair. Peter follows the pressure of their joined hands to kiss at MJ’s collarbone, nuzzle into his neck.

 

The cab is too hot. The cab is stifling, heat pressing down from all sides, and it doesn’t help that Peter is pressed against two flush bodies, but he’d rather burn up than pull away. He mouths at MJ’s neck, slides his fingers under the shoulder of one of Gwen’s bra straps and listens to the gasps of two people he loves as they kiss fervently above him.

 

Peter bumps his head on Gwen’s boob when the cab comes to a halt, and then the cabbie’s scratchy voice is telling them the fare, and Peter wishes he were drunk more than he ever has in his _life_. People have drunken mistakes all the time, right? People occasionally kiss their best friends in the back of a cab and then get turned on by watching their girlfriends make out with them, right? Stuff like that happens all the time on TV, it has to happen at least sometimes in real life.

 

“Uh, right,” Gwen says, and lifts her head from where she’s been kissing MJ. On the mouth. While Peter made out with MJ’s neck. “Sorry, how much?”

 

The driver repeats it, and Gwen gets off of MJ as she goes through her pocket for it. “Keep the change,” she tells him, out of breath, her cheeks red as anything.

 

They walk to Peter’s house in silence, Gwen’s heels clipping the concrete being the only sound until, right out front of Peter’s door, MJ takes a breath and says, “I could just stay at my place tonight, I have stuff to do anyway-”

 

“You can, if you want,” Gwen tells him, still blushing but looking him in the eye. “Or you could- not. Your choice.”

 

MJ stares at her for a moment, mouth open like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. He looks over at Peter, who shrugs.

 

“You’re our fave person, too,” Peter says softly, and watches MJ’s throat when he swallows. He has a hickey, but Peter isn’t sure if it’s from him or Gwen.

 

The three of them stand outside Peter’s house for a while, looking at each other and wondering if they can have this, if they’re allowed this, if this could even work.

 

Finally, MJ says, “Guess I might as well come in,” and they go up to Peter’s bedroom without knocking anything over even with two drunk-ish teenagers and the darkness. They change into their PJs in separate rooms, and Peter hopes they’re as freaked out as he is, because if it’s just him he’s going to feel even worse.

 

Usually when this happens, Peter and Gwen sleep in the same bed and MJ sleeps on a cot, but this time MJ squeezes under the covers with the rest of them. None of them are breathing normally.

 

“This is weird, right,” MJ says when they’re arguing over who gets what pillow.

 

“It’s weird that I might wake up with two pairs of feet in my face,” Gwen agrees. “But it’s not weird because it’s the three of us.”

 

 

-

 

 

 

Peter ends up getting pushed out of his own bed, because it turns out MJ isn’t a still sleeper. He wakes up to the air whooshing out of him and Gwen cackling into her pillow.

 

“Sorry,” MJ whispers, because it’s still dark out and he’s still nervous about the whole thing, like they all are. Peter just shoves him lightly and, after second thought, kisses him before telling him if he gets shoved out of bed again, MJ’s going to wake up via a wet flannel to the face.

 

The next time Peter wakes up, it’s to a door creaking. His eyes flash open, and his chest constricts as he sees Aunt May raising his eyebrows towards Peter’s extra bedmates. They blink wordlessly at each other for what feels like eternity to Peter, until Aunt May pins Peter with a severe look that he’s only seen her pull off.

 

 _Condoms_ , she mouths, and the look lengthens.

 

Peter whisper-hisses, “Oh my god, yes, leave,” flapping his hand at her as much as he can without jolting anybody.

 

She positions a finger at him for another good glare before leaving.

 

 

-

 

 

Gwen and MJ start a jogging routine. Every Wednesday and Friday after school, they jog three times around the block and retreat to either MJ’s or Peter’s house for a health-smoothie. They come back, sweating and panting and hugging Peter just to watch him squirm and yell about sweat, and then despair loudly at the contents of the health-smoothies that Gwen and MJ chug down.

 

Date night accumulates a permanent new member, which makes Spidey date night harder, since he has to take one person up to whatever place they’re scaling and then go back for the other and sometimes the picnic basket if it’s particularly heavy that day, but it’s worth it.

 

It’s even worth it when one of them wakes up with feet in their face or a body draped over their waists- mostly MJ, who moves around anywhere he can move without dislocating something- it’s worth it when one of them feels left out or they get a weird look in the street.

 

It’s also worth it because of the first day back at school after the party, where Flash, Peter, Gwen and MJ chat by their homeroom and are interrupted by the ringing bell.

 

“Back to the trenches,” MJ sighs dramatically. “Don’t forget, Flash, Spidey club after school.”

 

“When do I ever forget,” Flash replies, and turns around to point both hands towards his shaved-in spidey symbol before turning back. “See you, guys.”

 

“Bye, Pete,” Gwen says, and stretches to kiss him. She turns to MJ. “See you in study hall,” she says, and kisses him, too.

 

Behind them, Flash makes a sound like he’s just swallows a pile of screws.

 

MJ smiles warmly. “Will do,” he says, and kisses Peter goodbye, giving him an extra peck on the forehead for good luck on the quiz they all know is coming for him.

 

Flash gets sent to detention for yelling, “WHAT THE FUCK,” just as a teacher walks in.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Eek, this was my first OT3 fic. I had a lot of fun writing it, wow. OT3s are gonna be my new thing.
> 
> Find me on my [ tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/)!


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